


The Fourth Time

by raiast



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Mature instead of Teen because of teeny tiny glimpse of sexy stuff, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, talks about feelings, they are like the most obvious redundant tags ever, why do we even have those tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 21:12:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17670182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiast/pseuds/raiast
Summary: There usually weren’t a lot of words passed between them at this point--namely because Will could scarcely string together a coherent sentence after Hannibal had finished with him. This time, instead of drifting into a satisfied slumber, Will surprised them both by asking, “When did you fall in love with me?”





	The Fourth Time

**Author's Note:**

> Our favorite idiots in love are back with some domestic fluffiness and sweet words about their feelings.

Will shuddered and cried out as he came, fingers digging into Hannibal’s chest as he rode out his bliss. Hannibal’s hands tightened on his hips, bucked up a few more times before stilling completely and spilling his release inside of him. The sensation pulled another whimper from Will’s throat and he sighed, sagging over Hannibal’s warm form beneath him. After a moment Hannibal pulled himself from Will, handling his lax form with ease until Will lay on his side, curled against Hannibal’s chest. Will kept one arm pinned between their bodies and the bed, his other instinctively settling across a hard body, fingers curling in the coarse hair that covered it.

For a time there was only their breathing; ragged, gasping things slowly calming to relaxed sighs. There usually weren’t a lot of words passed between them at this point--namely because Will could scarcely string together a coherent sentence after Hannibal had finished with him. This time, instead of drifting into a satisfied slumber, Will surprised them both by asking, “When did you fall in love with me?”

It was a rather blunt question, given that the sentiment had never actually been spoken out loud before. It seemed, up until this point at least, that there had been no need for it. Will felt Hannibal’s love in every home-cooked meal, every touch, be it the caress of a lover or the guiding hand of an instructor, every warm glance that Hannibal didn’t think Will noticed. He didn’t really feel the need to hear it out loud, but Will was curious, and if being with Hannibal had taught him anything it was how satisfying sating your curiosity can be.

Hannibal hummed softly, his fingers pausing only for a fraction of second as they slid through his sweaty curls. “The first time? When you unloaded your clip into Garrett Jacob Hobbs.”

Will’s head twitched with what might have been a slight nod. He couldn’t say he was surprised, even though that event had come to pass not long after they had met. Will’s broken mind had drawn him in, and the glimpse of the darkness he shared with Hannibal had hooked his affection. Will wondered if Hannibal had been surprised by that; that someone could cause a reaction in him that he hadn’t planned for. He wondered how quickly after the realization Hannibal considered killing him to rid himself of the trouble of it.

“The second time, when you sat in my office admitted to the both of us that you liked doing it.”

Will remembers that moment vividly: upset with himself over the lack of satisfaction he felt when he only disabled Stammets, terrified of how Hannibal would react when the confession about Hobbs was pulled from him so effortlessly. And the very distinct non-reaction his non-psychiatrist gave him; no disgust or shock on his face, no pity or judgement in his eyes. Instead, he likened Will to God.

He remembers how safe he felt back then. Remembers feeling that perhaps Dr. Lecter understood him better than he thought; that perhaps the darkness that lurked deep within him wasn’t something that he needed to condemn outright, despite what society might say. It had been easier, then, when the hallucinations were only beginning and Hannibal hadn’t yet caught the scent of his burning brain. Back when things were real and raw between them; before Hannibal’s curiosity and machinations destroyed what might have been built between them--what Will thought had been built between them.

The ironic thing was, Will wagered, that if things had continued on in the same vein, without all of Hannibal’s manipulation and deceit, Will may have found himself swayed to land firmly on his side on his own. Perhaps if Hannibal had made it more of a seduction than a game they could have skipped all of the betrayal and grief and wasted time and been here years earlier. Perhaps with Abigail. Will thought to comment on that, even though they had both agreed that the arduous journey had been necessary to achieve the end result, but by the time he was opening his mouth, Hannibal had continued speaking.

“The third time, when I held you in my arms, victorious and euphoric and black with blood in the moonlight, and you called our design beautiful.”

Will’s heart gave a pleasant lurch at ' _our_ design’, twisted his head slightly to press a soft kiss to Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal’s fingers continued to twist gently through his hair. It _had_ been a design of both of their making; their first, the culmination and consummation of all that had transpired between them for half a decade.

“It _was_ beautiful,” Will pointed out.

“Yes,” Hannibal agreed.

\---

To Hannibal’s credit, he waited a full day before his curiosity got the better of him and he volleyed Will’s question back at him. They sat in the study after dinner, Hannibal reading a tedious looking tome on the couch, Will at the little work station he’d shoved into the corner by the window, working on a lure of yellow feather and abalone scavenged from the beach.

“When was it for you, Will?” he asked simply, turning to the next page of his book despite it obviously not holding his interest.

Will had been expecting the question and didn’t need to ask for clarification. He finished winding his thread and knotted it before pushing away from the desk and turning in his chair to face him. Hannibal’s eyes were still trained on the book in his lap; his attention, however, was trained on Will. He seemed very intent on feigning minimal interest in Will’s response, though he was the one to bring it up out of the blue. Warm affection bloomed in Will’s chest.

“The first time, when I walked into that hospital room and saw you asleep in your chair, holding Abigail’s hand.”

It said something about them, he thought, that their first moments were so intensely disparate; Hannibal’s as Will took a life and Will’s as Hannibal sat in silent vigil of comfort. That from the very beginning they unknowingly mirrored each other perfectly.

Hannibal gave up the guise of reading, lifting his eyes to meet Will’s across the room.

“It was the first time I saw you so unguarded. A sight I wouldn’t be honored with again for a long time after that. At the time I didn’t know how much I should appreciate it. Actually,” Will gave a soft laugh. “I resented you for it. I didn’t want to like you or find you kind or interesting. I needed for you to be just another boring, pompous psychiatrist.”

Hannibal’s beautiful lips curled into a small smile. “Why?” he asked, though they both knew the answer.

“Because you frightened me,” Will admitted on a shaky breath. “What you made me feel frightened me.”

This time, he didn’t ask for the answer that they both already knew. For Will, with the darkness he had battled to hold under his whole life and his self-imposed isolation, feeling the unwavering acceptance that Hannibal offered would, indeed, be terrifying.

“The second time,” Will continued, changing gears as suddenly as he stood, “The second time you were up to your elbows in a human body.”

Hannibal nodded sagely. “Silvestri’s would-be donor.”

“You were incredible,” Will informed him as he drew nearer. This was always how they ended up, with Will drawn to Hannibal by some inexplicable force; he had long since resigned to the fact that he was a mere satellite caught in Hannibal’s celestial pull. “The way you could step in and save a life so effortlessly.”

Will paused before the couch, pulling the forgotten book from Hannibal’s grasp and glancing at the spine and then back at him with a raised brow and a smirk. “Machiavelli? Really?” Will abandoned the book on the end table next to the couch and took its place in Hannibal’s lap by straddling his hips. Hannibal’s hands came to rest on Will’s waist as he settled in, his own coming up to run over Hannibal’s broad shoulders. “I think I knew even then, how easy it would be for you to shift from saving a life to taking one. Even if I couldn’t see it. Something in me _knew_.”

He raised a hand, tracing a single finger softly over the older man’s exquisite cheekbones, down his strong jaw, across his very kissable lips. “It’s downright unfair how beautiful you are,” Will murmured, much to Hannibal’s amusement. Blue eyes pulled up to meet those of maroon, resurrecting Will’s focus on the topic at hand. He leaned forward to rest their foreheads together.

“The third time there was a wall of glass between us. I was so furious with you, though I think I knew even then that I really shouldn’t have been surprised by your antics.” Will tried not to linger on the fact that he had just referred to someone having sent a killer after his wife and son as _antics_. “I just wanted you to hurt. I said what I did to pull any kind of reaction out of you that I could. And when I turned to leave you behind me you asked me if it was good to see you.”

“And you said no,” Hannibal reminded him. He had the good grace not to sound bitter about it.

“I lied,” Will admitted, even though Hannibal had probably figured that out by now. “But that was it. I did my best to tear you down and you just wanted to know if I’d missed you. Told me not to worry about you. That was the moment that I knew for certain that I couldn’t keep going on without you. Didn’t want to.”

A graceful hand rose to brush the curls out of Will’s eyes. Hannibal had been mentioning for weeks now that it was time to trim his hair; perhaps it was time to relent. The warm hand drifted down to cup his jaw, his thumb running tenderly down the scar tissue that bisected the stubble on his right cheek. “And the fourth time?” Hannibal inquired softly.

Will leaned forward to correct the distance between their lips.

**Author's Note:**

> So this isn't for Sleep Study, nor the requested second part of Demo Lovers. Sorry >_< I've had this story mostly completed and collecting dust for awhile now, so I decided today to polish it up and post it.


End file.
